Disquietude
This night wears on and carries me,
alone, through time that hangs in folds.
I struggle to accept or see
what happenings the future holds.
I dread to peek behind the drape
and find a day I can't escape,
when all that's right and pure and good
has disappeared from where it stood.
I think I'll wrap myself in wool
that blocks my sight and muffles sound
and wait for time to gently pull
me someplace where I can't be found.
Perhaps I'll see that all is well,
I didn't need my woolly shell,
and all that's pure and good and right
was there and waiting in the night.
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